


Let's Forget The Past, I Swear We'll Make This Last

by queerwriter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d, AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drinking, Fighting, Fluff, Harry Styles - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nick Grimshaw - Freeform, Past Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles, Suggested Smut, Swearing, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, mentions of supernatural, one direction - Freeform, suggested daddy kink, suggested infidelity, supernatural spoilers???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwriter/pseuds/queerwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry meets up with an old flame who'll open his eyes</p><p>Or the one where Harry's ex boyfriend Nick Grimshaw shows up in his life again and makes Harry realise it's time to take his and Louis's relationship to the next level</p><p> </p><p>Title from 'If You Don't Know' by 5 Seconds Of Summer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Forget The Past, I Swear We'll Make This Last

They were sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn wedged between their thighs, some old film playing on the television when Harry's cellphone chimed from his pocket, an annoying tone that was very obnoxious. He means to change that one of these days. He pulled it out with a furrowed brow to see an unfamiliar number texting him.

 

"Who is it babe?" Louis asked, pausing the movie and turning towards his boyfriend.

 

"Don't know," he mumbled quizzically, opening up the message that read,

 

_Hey man great catching up with you today. Maybe we can hang soon? x Grim :)_

 

Harry immediately recognised the signature at the end of the message. "Oh, it's just Nick." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

"Nick?" Louis's lip quirked down in blatant disgust. "As in _Grimshaw_?"

 

"Yeah," Harry said whilst typing out a _sure mate, I'll let you know when I'm free xx H._ "Ran into him outside the shops today. Exchanged numbers and all that."

 

Louis huffed and crossed his arms over his chest in a very childish manner. "You know I don't like that man, Harry."

 

"I know, but there's absolutely no reason for you to dislike him. He's a very nice lad." Harry retorted.

 

"Very nice, my arse. Do you not remember what he did?"

 

Of course Harry remembers what Nick did, but what's in the past is, well, in the past. And should stay there. "I swear it was just a misunderstanding."

 

"Misunderstanding?" Louis gaped. "You call flirting with you relentlessly while we were dating just a _misunderstanding_? H, he _threatened_ me. Do you not remember _that_?"

 

"Yes I remember it all, Lou." Harry sighed. "And if I thought that the threats were anything but empty then I would've done more than tell him to piss off. I mean it's not my fault he was still in love with me! Frankly I don't blame him because I did just dump him out of the blue with no elucidation whatsoever."

 

Louis sat back with a smug grin suddenly tugging at his thin lips. "And why did you just _dump him out of the blue_ , Harold?"

 

Harry sighed, cocking his head and staring at Louis from the corner of his gaze. "Because I met you, and fell in love because you are the most wonderful, amazing, spectaculacular person I have ever met in the history of my entire existence!" He shouted dramatically, climbing onto Louis's legs and straddling his lap while leaving sloppy salt and butter-filled kisses all over his face.

 

"Spectaculacular?" He questioned as he attempted to push Harry away and wipe at the grease on his lips and cheeks. "Is that even a word?"

 

"Well it should be because that's what you are!" Harry pressed his slick, salt-swollen lips to the column of Louis's neck while Louis laughed maniacally under the fervent boys touch.

 

"You're weird." He screwed his eyes shut as Harry licked his nose, the warm stench of cheap, store-bought microwaveable popcorn wafting through his nostrils. He could practically _feel_ his nose hairs singeing away under the scent of artificial butter.

 

"But you love me."

 

"You got that right," suddenly forgetting about crappy snack foods, he grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt and pulled his mouth to his, leaving a bruising kiss to his salty lips. "More than that bloke could ever love you. Got it?"

 

"Yes daddy." Harry groaned into his mouth and ground their hips together, semis rubbing against each other through the fabric of their restricting trousers.

 

And let's just say, by the end of the night, neither of them could even remember who Nick Grimshaw was.

*

Louis fucked any thought of Nick out of Harry's mind that night, and the subject most definitely was not brought up anymore after that. He's sore enough as it is. That is until about a week after The Text Message, as Louis would call it, when the _subject_  himself walked right through the door of the downtown bagel shop.

 

"Styles!" An unmistakable Oldham accent shrilled from behind them.

 

They turned around and was met with none other than the lively face of Nick Grimshaw, hair astray and pyjamas still rumpled with sleep.

 

Harry possibly had the biggest look of _oh shit_ to ever cross anyones face in that moment as he watched the man fast approaching. He thought maybe they could turn back to the counter and wait for their order of poppyseed/cream cheese and everything/butter bagels as if they hadn't heard the bell above the door jingle, but it's too late now because Harry's made eye contact for fucks sakes and Nick's weaving in and out of other people to get to them and he wants to just jump over the display case of different flavoured bagel spreads and flee out the back entrance before Grimmy could reach them.

 

"Saw you from outside! S'great to see you again. Never heard back from you though." The man pouted as he stopped in front of the couple.

 

"Yeah, well I just forgot, I guess." Harry chuffed nervously and peered over his shoulder to where Louis stood behind him with his eyebrows drawn to his eyelashes, jaw clenching and unclenching. If looks could kill, Nick would be a mangled mess on the tiled floor right about now.

 

"Oh Tommo! Didn't see you back there." He stepped forward and extended a hand, but Louis ignored the gesture and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist instead, digging the tips of his fingers into the skin of Harry's hip through the thin material of his T-shirt. Nick retracted his arm awkwardly. "Well, hope to hear from you soon, mate. We need to hang out again and catch up, yeah?"

 

"Yeah." Harry replied out of pure politeness as Louis spat out a "no".

 

"Okay," Nick looked a little deflated as he turned back toward the door. "Great seeing you two again, I guess."

 

Once he left, Harry turned to Louis, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out a hip. "Jesus Lou, could you be more cold to him?"

 

Louis just smiled. He fucking _smiled_. "Teaches him to come around us anymore, hm?"

 

Harry groaned and grabbed their order from the countertop. "You're something else, you know?"

 

"I know." Louis grinned.

*

Nick was always a persistent bastard, so it wasn't long before Harry's inbox filled with text after text signed _x Grim :)_ and all relating to the same subject of 'catching up'. And well, Harry never was good at ignoring someone, no matter who, so he texted the poor tosser back and told him to meet him at the local pub at 6 that afternoon while Louis was still at work volunteering at his mothers hospital.

 

He had the little meeting planned to proceed apace: Harry would order them both a bottle of warm lager and then he would, in the nicest way possible of course, tell him to fuck off because he knows exactly what he's trying to do. Then he's gonna go home and wait for his lover to return from work and then they'd fuck while dinner's in the oven and everything will be right again. But that's not how it went at all.

 

Harry made it to the bar with the full intent of telling Nick to back the fuck off, yes, but when he got inside, there Nick was, two bottles of cognac sitting before him. And that's when Harry knew his plan wasn't going to go as according.

 

"Nick," he said quite unenthusiastically as he neared the booth. "Didn't expect you to be here so early."

 

He twisted the cap from his bottle and placed it to his lips. "Couldn't wait to see you mate, that's all."

 

Harry, groaning under his breath, sat down across from him and contemplated whether or not to just climb under the table and avoid the conversation all together because Nick is looking at him with such sincerity and admiration and, a single bottle of cognac isn't going to be enough to get the words out of his mouth.

 

"Listen Nick," Harry decided that that wasn't too harsh to start with. "I know what you're trying to do, and I don't appreciate it much."

 

And for the love of god, Nick's tilting his head to the side like a fucking lost puppy. "Doing what?" He asks dumbly. And the worst part is, he's not even being sarcastic.

 

He takes a sip from his bottle and, inhaling a deep breath of the smoky pub atmosphere, opens his mouth again. "It's like five years ago all over again. You're just trying to get me back."

 

Nick sighs, like he knows this conversation was bound to happen now that he's made a reappearance in Harry's life. "H, I was a fool for doing what I did. A love struck fool and I apologise immensely." Since when did his vocabulary become so advanced?

 

Harry just sat there, dumbfounded. 5 years must really be a long time, because this surely isn't the possessive boy Harry had a thing with junior year of high school sitting before him. No, this is a man finally apologising for past mistakes. Harry admires him for that.

 

Nick continued. "Yes, I wanted you back. But that's only because I was jealous that you suddenly found someone better than me. Once I realised how happy you and Louis really were, I backed off and found someone for myself." He held out his left hand where a silver band rested on his finger.

 

"You're _married_?" Harry asked slightly incredulously. 5 years definitely is a long time.

 

Nick only laughed heartily. "Is it that hard to believe, Styles? After my bout of self-pity, I went out and got pissed and a nice fellow brought me home. To skip all the sexual details for your sake, we got to know each other, started to date, and a year later I was Nicholas Cordan." His smile suddenly made Harry feel much better about the whole situation.

 

"Wait, _Cordan_? As in _James_ Cordan? Holmes Chapel Comprehensive High football goalie and GSA club president three years in a row, _James Cordan_?"

 

Nick nodded. "Yessir. And now we both host our own morning radio show together over in north London at the BBC studios." _What the fuck_ , Harry doesn't even have a proper _job_ , let alone is own radio show.

 

He blew out an astonished breath and lifted the bottle to his lips. "Well I'm sorry I assumed, Grimmy."

 

"Ah ah ah. Can't call me that anymore, H, can you?" He only smiled.

 

"Some things just don't change, my friend." Harry raised his half full bottle in the air, then to his mouth again. The night didn't go as planned, but Harry's rekindled an old friendship without any underlying feelings to get in the way, because they're both in happy, committed relationships, and it feels quite good.

 

Speaking of which, when Harry opens up the door to their apartment, typing out a message to Nick letting him know he made it home all right, Louis's already in the kitchen stirring something on the stovetop. Peering around the doorway at his boyfriends face for any sign of annoyance at Harry's late arrival, he says, "Lou?"

 

"In here babe." And thank the heavens, he can practically hear the smile in his voice.

 

Toeing off his boots near the door, Harry enters the kitchen pressing a kiss to Louis's cheek before dropping his body into a chair at the table. "How was work?"

 

Louis raises his eyebrows and shrugs, placing the wooden spoon on the countertop and turning around. "Well no one died today, so pretty good." He crosses the kitchen and tucks a strand of thick hair behind Harry's ear. "What about you, darling? Where were you at?"

 

 _Fuck_ , Harry thinks. This is it, this is when it all comes crashing down and Louis'll find out and leave him for getting drinks with the one person he despises the most in the world and Harry will be all alone in life, and he's answering _"just out"_ and Louis's simply smiling and turning back to the stove and Harry feels like he's going to pass out because _bless him_ for not being the inquisitive type.

 

"Well I'm glad you're not home too late because I'm making rigatoni spaghetti." He says as he picks the spoon up again.

 

"With vodka sauce?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Then it's not spaghetti, per se."

 

"Well it's still pasta and sauce, so there."

 

And yeah, Harry's glad Louis's a lot of things.

*

The week continues like this: every day Harry will make his way down to Odder and order two bottles of Guinness and wait for Nick in the little booth in the back of the pub they rightfully claimed as theirs, and once he arrives, they'll nurse their bottles while exchanging hilarious accounts of their partners and why they love them as much as they do. It's fun, really. Because Harry's got no one to boast about Louis to. Anne's heard it all, Johanna's definitely heard it all (he's her son, she knows everything about the boy), and Gemma's heard more than enough, so why not share stories to the one person who's as in love as he is and hasn't actually _heard_ any of these stories yet?

 

Although it's Thursday afternoon when they're two bottles of liquor in when the conversation takes a turn for the serious.

 

"So when're you going to propose?" Nick asks after a few moments of silence and sipping, eyebrows raising over the brim of his bottle.

 

Harry almost chokes, spluttering his drink all over the wooden tabletop. "What?" He asks through a hacking cough.

 

"I said, when are you going to propose to the wanker? You talk as if you two are already bloody _married_ for Christ sakes."

 

He takes a moment to ponder his thoughts because well, no one's ever actually _asked_ him this before. "I..I'm not sure?"

 

Nick places his half empty bottle before him and literally, physically rolls his eyes. "Oh come on, Styles. Don't tell me you've never so much as thought about it."

 

Harry furrows his eyebrows, lacing his fingers on the table and thinks. Never once has the thought of marriage or proposal popped into his mind, excluding the times it'd casually find it's way into verbal conversation with Louis over dinner. He never had the thought on his own without any encouragement.

 

"Woah man, don't hurt yourself. I can practically see the steam coming from those ears of yours." Nick gave a lighthearted chuckle. "But seriously, haven't you ever looked at Louis and thought _'fuck, I really wanna marry this boy'_?"

 

"Maybe?"

 

Nick groaned and finished off his bottle, waving the waitress over for another. "Think about when you're waking up beside him, when you're holding hands, making love, joking around, so on and so forth. You're telling me in those moments you never once looked at Louis and wanted to drop to one knee right then and there?"

 

And suddenly it was as if Harry could see the light. That feeling that bubbles up within his chest when they're in situations like those isn't just a fondness for the boy, it's longing. A longing to spend forever by his side as his husband. That's what that feeling really is.

 

"Holy shit," he whispers in realisation as the waitress places a fresh bottle in front of Nick, collecting the empty ones.

 

"Is he all right?" She asks kindly, nodding to where Harry has his face in his hands.

 

Nick untwists the cap and gestures to him dismissively. "Oh yeah. He's just having an epiphany."

 

Harry, practically slipping into subspace without the actual _sex_ part, doesn't even notice when Nick's finished off his drink and is throwing a tenner onto the table.

 

"'M gonna catch a cab home, mate." He says, ruffling Harry's curls that are tangled between his fingers. "You gonna be okay here?"

 

Harry nods absentmindedly, pulling a hand away from his head and scrubbing a palm down his face. Once Nick made it out of the bar sighing sympathetically for him, Harry waves the waitress over again and she leans down to match eye level with him.

 

"What can I get you?" She asks as gently as possible, automatically deeming the fragile state he's in.

 

"I'm gonna propose." That definitely wasn't the name of any alcoholic beverage, but it was the only thing he could get out of his mouth, and thankfully the woman seemed to understand because she came back with two shot glasses full of what smelled and looked like tequila. And oh yeah, it was definitely tequila because his throat was on fire after downing just one.

 

He doesn't know how much more time passes before he stands up from the booth on unstable legs, but the place is practically empty, only a few stragglers left swaying around the empty floor while the music drones on from the stereo system.

 

"Need a ride?" Someone behind the bar calls to him.

 

Harry shakes his head, saying he'll get a cab, and shuffles towards the door and out into the crisp night air, onto the curb. He raises an arm, sticking out a thumb until an Addison Lee pulls up to the sidewalk and he throws himself into the back seat.

 

"Where to, sir?"

 

Harry gives the man his address and buckles his seatbelt, imagining what would happen if a bunch of strobe lights started flashing and the driver turns around and tells him he has a chance to win some money on his way home, like in that American show Cash Cab or whatever, because _shit_ , if Harry's gonna propose, he needs a ring, and to get a decent ring, he needs money. Something he really doesn't have enough of.

 

 _Need money :((((_ , he texts Nick. It sounds very straightforward and selfish, but hey, it's the truth. And he may be a little too intoxicated to care about how he sounds right now.

 

 _Dontcha worry, mate :) got it covered x_ , he replies, and Harry wants to cry because since when did Nick Grimshaw become so goddamn sweet? He wasn't even this pleasant when they were dating for fucks sakes.

 

"Here we are, mate." The cab comes to a stop outside of his and Louis's flat and the jolt of the vehicle churns his stomach a bit. "That'll be £11.52. Cash only."

 

Harry pays the man with a fifty pence tip, climbing from the car and jogging up to the apartment. And for the love of all things holy, the lights are all off and Louis's already asleep under the covers when he enters the bedroom.

 

"Harry?" He mumbles when Harry climbs in next to him, clothes and all.

 

"Shh," He whispers and pulls the boy to his chest. "Go back to sleep, darling."

 

"Why do you smell like beer?"

 

"Just," _fuck._ "Needed to clear my head, s'all."

 

"Everything okay?" Louis turns over and presses his face into Harry's T-shirt. He always knows when comforting is needed.

 

Harry sighs and pulls the duvet tighter over their bodies, gazing down at the boy he absolutely loves snuggled into his chest and peering up at him with sleepy, worried eyes. "Yeah baby, everything's fine." And for the first time he actually thinks, _damn, I really want to marry you_.

*

The thought is in Harry's mind when he wakes, pulling at every tendon of his being to get up out of bed and drive straight to the nearest jewellery store, but Louis's practically on top of him, and he's just too scared. So he texts Nick.

 

_Nervous :(_

 

The reply comes within seconds, and the relief to have someone to talk to about all this is almost overwhelming.

 

_I'll be waiting in the car park in 10 :) x_

 

Harry lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, only to jolt under Louis's lax body a few seconds later because _what the fuck_ , Nick Grimshaw is going to be at their home in a matter of minutes and Louis specifically said for him not to come around them again.

 

"Oh fuck," he groans and sits up, Louis rolling onto his lap and mewling like a kitten in his sleep as he noses at Harry's hip bone. "C'mon Lou, I'm trying to save you from going to jail for manslaughter here." Harry grumbles as he shimmies out from under the sleeping boy and onto his feet.

 

Then there's a horn blaring outside the window and Harry thinks _he_ might be the one to get sent to jail for manslaughter because why the fuck does Grimmy have to be so goddamn _loud_? Although he wills himself not to do anything irrational since he's the only one who can help him right now. And honestly, he doesn't really feel like being arrested today.

 

Nick's waiting on the pathway right outside the flat when Harry opens up the door of the small building; freshly groomed and way too chipper for this hour of the morning.

 

"You're going out in public like _that_?" His eyes widen almost comically as he approaches. "Looks like you slept in yesterdays clothes, Styles!"

 

"That's because I did, you dolt. Now where could we possibly be going at this ungodly hour?" Harry yawns and rubs a hand down his face, a headache already forming behind his eyes.

 

"Where the fuck do you think? The jewellery store of course!"

 

Now it's Harry's turn to snap his eyes open wide because is Nick a mind reader or some shit? "We're really gonna do this now then?"

 

"Oh, don't tell me you're not going through with it." Nick shot him a warning glance. "You practically gave yourself an aneurism last night with that whole _sudden realisation_ thing. It was like you saw freaking Jesus or something, man!"

 

"I know, I know." Harry sighed, the heavy weight of reality finally settling on his shoulders. "This is all just so much, you know? Today Louis's my boyfriend, and possibly by tomorrow he'll be my fiancé. It's all so fucking crazy."

 

Nick chuckles wholeheartedly and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him down the pathway to the car park. "Trust me mate, I felt the same way you do when I proposed to James. But you need to do it now when you're in the right mindset or else you won't ever do it and Louis'll start whining about how _'if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it'_ , and then he'll leave you because he'll think you're scared of commitment. You don't want that, now do you?"

 

Harry's shaking his head frantically because _no_ , that's the farthest things he wants. "Okay, let's do this." He takes a big, dramatic breath. "Lets go get a ring for future Mr. Styles."

*

The store is proper _packed_ and Harry just wants to go back home and curl up in bed with his boyfriend. But then the lighting catches Nick's wedding band and he's steering himself over to the nearest display case because what he really wants is to cuddle Louis in bed and call him his _fiancé_.

 

"Hello, what can I help you with today?" A lady with bright red lipstick and platinum blonde hair stood behind the case with a kind smile. Almost too kind. Harry can tell it's strictly professional and can see the boredom and annoyance swimming behind her eyes as the two men approach the counter.

 

"I'm gonna propose." He blurts.

 

The woman has that look in her eye that says _well obviously_ , but she just nods. "Well we have some rings over here that your girlfriend will just _love_."

 

Nick coughs awkwardly and shakes his head. "He's got a boyfriend, miss."

 

Her eyes widen and her lips form an 'o' as if that is the most surprising news she's heard in all her life. "Oh, well then I guess your _boyfriend_ won't want a diamond ring then, hm?"

 

Harry furrows his brow and turns to Nick. "Lou doesn't want a girly ring right? Because he might, I mean he does like to dress up in panties and makeup for me once in a while." _Holy shit_ , did that really just come out of his mouth?

 

"Uh, H, no. Just get a simple silver or gold band with a few diamonds and _calm down_." Nick chuckles and spins him back around to face the display case.

 

 _Focus_ , he wills himself and peers at the collection of male engagement rings beneath the glass. He's rakes his eyes slowly over each set of silver and gold bands, stopping every so often when he sees a nice one, then decides Louis wouldn't be caught dead wearing something so gaudy, then moves on. The woman sighs and walks away to help with another costumer, and Nick crosses the showroom floor to another display.

 

"Styles!" He calls from across the room and beckons Harry over with a wave of his arm.

 

Harry shuffles over to him, starting to become disheartened when none of the rings he's seen so far felt like _the one_. Nick points at the glass to where a thick silver band sits on a little foam box, the small lightbulbs within the glass case causing the three diamonds encrusted into the front to glint and sparkle in the white light.

 

"Oh my god," Harry whispers under his breath. He felt something warm stir in the bottom of his stomach, the same sort of nervous excitement and overwhelming sense of captivation he gets every time he looks at Louis himself. This ring will suit him well. "That's the one," he breathes. "That's it."

 

Nick claps a hand on his shoulder and waves the woman back over. "Miss! I think we've made a decision."

*

"Jesus Christ, that took too damn long. Louis's probably awake and wondering where the hell I am since I left my phone sitting on the nightstand." Harry huffs and pushes the small velvet box further into his pocket so it doesn't slip out on his way up to the apartment.

 

"Well mate, you don't want it to be the wrong size do you?" Nick chuckles and presses his foot on the brake, stopping outside of the flat.

 

"Nah, I guess you're right," Harry opens the passenger door to the car and steps out. "Thanks again, mate. I wouldn't've been able to do any of this without you."

 

Nick waves him off. "Ah, don't get sentimental on me, Styles. I'm glad to've been any help. Now, when're you gonna propose to your boy?"

 

Harry scratches a hand through his hair and puckers his lips in thought. "Well he's off work today, so probably after breakfast when we're watching telly."

 

Nick nods in approval. "Well text me afterwards, yeah? I gotta get back home to my own hubby and spill your gossip."

 

Harry smiles and salutes the man before ascending the staircase in their small building and unlocks the apartment door.

 

"Lou?" He calls. No response. He tiptoes into the bedroom to where Louis is still snuggled under the duvet, bare shoulders peeking out from beneath his pillow. "Sweetheart?" Harry sits on the edge of the mattress and cards his hair through the boys rumpled hair.

 

"Mm?" Louis moans and blinks open his tired blue eyes. "Oh, morning Harry."

 

Harry smiles and pulls the blanket from Louis's body. "C'mon darling, don't want to sleep too long and waste your day off."

 

Louis nods and pushes himself up further in the bed until he's sitting flush against the headboard, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Were you out somewhere? Your trainers are on."

 

Harry stands and flashes a nervous smile. _Not yet_ , he wills himself and covers the obvious bulge of the ring box in his pocket with his palm. "Just went out to get a bit of air, love. I'll go make breakfast, yeah?"

 

"Yeah." Louis agrees, and stands from the bed, Harry skipping into the kitchen. He grabs Harry's cellphone sitting on the bedside table and clicks it on, the lock screen blank.

 

"C'mon Lou, im making pancakes!"

 

Louis re-locks the phone and pads out into the kitchen with bare feet, setting the cellular onto the round table without a word and goes to sit on the couch in the living room, clicking the television on.

 

 _Shit_ , Harry inwardly curses and sets the spatula beside the stove, retrieving his cellphone quickly from the table and turns it on to see no new messages were waiting on his lock screen. He sighs in relief and switches the stovetop off, sliding two pancakes each on two separate plates.

 

"Hon? You want syrup?" He asks as he grabs a pair of forks and knives from the cutlery drawer.

 

Louis makes an affirmative sound and Harry walks out into the living room to join his boyfriend, _fiancé soon_ , setting the ceramic plates and silverware onto the coffee table before them.

 

"Thank you." Louis says quietly and reaches for his plate, setting it on his lap.

 

"You all right, love?" Harry asks with a furrowed brow as he switches the television over to Netflix. He panics for a moment, thinking for a split second that maybe Louis is coming down with something and he shouldn't propose today, but then Louis is answering with a, _"tired still"_ , and Harry lets out a breath and picks up his fork. Maybe he just had a bad nights sleep.

 

Their breakfast is tense; Louis eating in silence and leaning away from Harry. It definitely was not a good atmosphere to propose, although maybe if he pops the question Louis'll break out of this funk he's in. He considers it for a moment, then remembers what Nick had said that morning. _You need to do it now or else you'll never do it_. Okay.

 

They're at the end of the season 5 finale of _Supernatural_ , when Castiel throws a holy oil Molotov cocktail at Michaels vessel Adam, causing him to vanish, and Lucifers vessel Sam blows Cas up with a snap of his fingers, then snaps Bobby's neck. Louis has his hands cupped around his mouth, body leaning forward on the couch as Sam (Lucifer) beats the living shit out of Dean against the Impala, and Harry decides it's now or never, the ring box burning against his thigh.

 

"I'll be right back." He mumbles and stands from the sofa as Louis waves him off, eyes transfixed on the television screen. _"It's okay, I'm here, it's alright,"_ he can hear Jensen Ackles pleading to his possessed brother from the speakers, and shuts himself into the bathroom.

 

Harry pulls the box from his pocket and flips it open to make sure the ring is still in there, then closes it and puts it back in it's place, leaning against the sink and staring at his reflection in the mirror. His hair is a rats nest and there're deep purple bags under his eyes, but he reminds himself again, _it's now or never_.

 

He opens up the door and steps back out into the living room, eyes catching a glimpse of the TV screen where Lucifer and Michael are falling into the pit that Dean created on the cemetery ground with the rings of the four horsemen, and sees Louis standing from the couch, Harry's cellphone in his hands. _Oh shit_.

 

"Lou?" He asks and Louis looks up, hurt and anger swirling behind his sweet blue eyes.

 

" _Are you gonna do it? From Grim_." He reads the message out loud and Harry wants to lock himself back into the bathroom. "Do what, Harry?"

 

"I-"

 

"Break up with me? Is that what you're gonna do? Fucking break up with me so you can be with _Grimshaw_?" He practically snarls, tightening his grip on the phone.

 

Harry just stands there, head bowed and hand palming at the bulge in his pocket. _Fuck fuck fuck_. He chants to himself. This is not how this was supposed to go.

 

"I saw you, you know." Louis's voice cracks mid sentence, cellphone slipping from his fingers and landing on the hardwood floor. Harry cocks a brow. "This morning when you were getting out of that bastards car."

 

"It's not what it looked like, Lou." Harry tries, but Louis just dismisses him with a shake of his head.

 

"Then what the fuck was it _supposed_ to look like, Harry?" He yells, stomping his foot. "Because it looked like you snuck out to see him."

 

"I wasn't, dammit!" He shouts back, the room falling silent as Castiel heals Dean's injuries on the television screen, explaining how God himself resurrected him.

 

"Well Jesus fuck, Harry! Care to tell me why you've been acting weird as hell since you met back up with Nick?"

 

"Because he was helping me get up the nerve to do something." He almost mumbles.

 

"Helping you break up with me?" Louis juts out a hip.

 

"He's _married_!"

 

Louis's eyes widen. "Oh, so you're like his fucking _mistress_ or something?"

 

Harry clenches his jaw, reaching for his phone on the floor and reads the message over silently to himself before looking back up. "Do you really want to know what I was going to do this morning?" His hands are shaking, his head is reeling, but the moment is finally here. He hopes.

 

"I'd love to know."

 

He sticks his hand into his pocket and drops to one knee on the floor, pulling out the box and holding it clutched against his palm. "I was getting up the nerve to do this." He flips the box open and Louis slips to the floor in front of him.

 

"Oh Harry.."

 

" _Louis_." Harry cuts off sharply. "I would never, _ever_ cheat on you. And it hurts to know that you think I'd stoop that low."

 

"I'm sorry." Louis whispers.

 

" _Please_ ," Harry pleads, voice catching in his throat. "Please just let me explain." He shuts his eyes momentarily. "I know, _I know_ you despise Nick, and I met up with him last week with the full intent to tell him to leave us alone, but he told me something. You know what he told me, Lou?"

 

Louis shakes his head.

 

"He said that he was _sorry_. And that he went out and found himself someone. He's _married_. To James Cordan. He's _happy_ , Louis." Harry shifts to his other knee.

 

"But-"

 

" _Wait_. I'm not done. Last night I met up with him, as I've been doing all week. And before you scold me anymore, I apologise for sneaking out without your consent. But last night he asked me why I haven't proposed to you yet."

 

At this point Louis was crying, wiping his eyes on the back of his hands.

 

Harry continued. "So I thought to myself, _why haven't I proposed to Louis yet?_ And this morning, Nick drove me over to the jewellery place downtown, and I found this." He raised the ring box a little higher, and Louis choked out a sob.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Louis," Harry interrupted. "Light of my life, I love you so much. And I'm sorry it took sneaking out every night for drinks with Nick to make me realise that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So," he pulls the ring from it's velvet box. "Louis Tomlinson, will you do me the honours of being my husband?"

 

Louis nods his head, wiping the tears from his face and extending a trembling left hand. "Yes, oh god."

 

Harry pushes the ring onto his finger and pulls the shaking boy onto his lap. "Shh baby, it's alright."

 

"I'm sorry I assumed." Louis hiccups into his chest. "I'm sorry I was jumping to conclusions."

 

Harry shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. I would've told you everything from the beginning, but it would've given it all away."

 

Louis pulls back and kisses him, hands tightening on his cheeks. Harry holds onto his waist as he rocks them back and forth on the living room floor, _Carry On My Wayward Son_  blaring from the speakers behind them. Harry's phone buzzes beside his foot, and he reaches for it.

 

 _Well? X_ The message reads.

 

Harry pulls his arms away from Louis's torso to type out a reply.

 

_Would you like to be my best man? Xx_

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is shit and I apologise but I just really wanted to finish this story
> 
> Follow me on twitter? @babydaddylwt  
> Tumblr? fallen-angel-on-a-bender


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